The New Guy
by Summersfan
Summary: AU. High school. Will is a sweetnatured creative writing student. After Cecily breaks his heart, Angel offers to let him into his gang and teach him about life.
1. The Old School

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns it all. I own nothing. I own nothiinkkk! (Think Hogan's Heroes, guys)  
  
Summary: AU. High school. Will is a sweet-natured creative writing student into poetry. Then, one day, after Cecily breaks his heart, Angel offers to let him into his gang and teach him about life.  
  
A/N: I know, I know, it's been done. But I think this is different. How different? The New Guy different. And I'm flipflopping. I usually write S/B, but Spike and Faith have way, way better chemistry. I mean, seriously, writing them together is a joy. Writing Spike and Buffy is fun, but not near as fun as Spike and Faith. So I'm leaning. Let me know.  
  
Chapter 1: The Old School  
  
An anonymous little high school in England.  
  
William carefully adjusted his glasses, watching her. He spent all his time watching her at school, lately, and although some of his science classes had suffered horribly, his poetry was flourishing.  
  
And who could blame him, really? She was a goddess. She was perfect.  
  
And, okay, his poetry wasn't top shelf. He knew that. He was hardly illiterate, after all.  
  
He lifted his legal pad, staring down at the poem. Gleaming. Gleaming? The word was flat. It had no meaning, no song. It didn't make him feel anything at all. Meter-wise and rhyme-wise it threw the poem off.  
  
And what was up with this? Effulgent? That was great. Maybe the five people on earth who didn't have to reach for a dictionary would enjoy his poetry.  
  
And, then there was the jerks.  
  
A football player grabbed his arm. "Hey, little guy. What's with the notes?" (A/N: Note: this is England, so football is soccer. Just roll with it, guys (ooh! Pun me!))  
  
"No!" Said William, trying to squirm free. "Er, just my poetry. You know,"  
  
The football player grinned. He was outfitted in his football gear, that is, shorts and cleats. "I see. Hm. My heart has grown a bulge? Sounds painful, Will." The football player said. He grinned widely. "Or are you just anatomically confused?"  
  
There was laughter, and William realized to his horror that the entire football crowd was now around him. He managed a tiny little smile, but couldn't really mean it.  
  
Cecily drifted closer, and William could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't about to stop them. He squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
Then a football player grabbed the long, floppy locks of his hair. "So, what about it? Who's the poetry about, mister heart-on?"  
  
William felt his cheeks flush. "Nobody." He said quietly. "Just an assignment for writing class."  
  
"Boy, I gotta get me into this poetry class!" Said the football player.  
  
Then there was a bell, and they were gone. Suddenly, in an instant, his humiliation was over. He let loose the breath in his chest, a long breath, and looked around.  
  
There was Cecily, still standing there. In the background William could see a few stragglers heading for class, but he ignored them. As always, his eyes were only for Cecily.  
  
"Cecily." He breathed out.  
  
He waited a beat for the words she always used when somebody called her Cecily. He'd heard her say them a thousand times, always wishing she'd say them to him. "My friends call me Ceece." Those words, once spoken, would be an acknowledgement, and invitation.  
  
"Will." She said, studying him.  
  
He almost whimpered, but then, she wasn't treating him like all of her friends. Wasn't that a good sign?  
  
"Tell me, Will, was Nick right? Was that. . . for someone special?" She swallowed. "Was that for me?" She asked. He swallowed. She was asking him. . ? If this was a dream, he hoped he wouldn't wake up.  
  
"Y-yes." He managed to stutter.  
  
She looked away. "Oh, Will." She sighed.  
  
"I-I know they aren't very good, but poetry is just an attempt to put one's feelings on paper." William managed to stutter. "And, and it may be crude, but I think that-"  
  
"Will, stop right there." She ordered. He stopped. "You're beneath me, Will. You're nothing to me. And, and if you keep watching me, keep writing about me, I'll complain. That's stalking, Will. That's harassment. And I don't have to put up with it."  
  
She turned and walked away, leaving William alone. He stared after her, his mouth falling open. She'd devastated him, and his eyes filled with tears.  
  
He turned away, tearing off the page poetry on the legal pad, tearing the page in half and throwing the two halves away.  
  
"Hey." Said a gruff voice. William looked up.  
  
It was Angel. Every school had a kid like Angel. Bad to the bone, nasty, downright mean. Belligerent. Constantly in trouble. No friends. And, to make matters worse, a knife, according to rumor. There were rumors that his dad was spending time in prison. Rumors of a nastier sort about the way he spent his free time.  
  
William threw his hands up. "What, you want my lunch money now? Fine! Take it! Oh, wait, I haven't got any lunch money. My bad."  
  
Angel chuckled. "You think you're bad, huh?" He asked. He glanced after Cecily. "She handed you your guts." He observed, smiling. "I like that in a girl." He observed.  
  
"Sod off." Suggested William.  
  
Angel grabbed him and in a flash had him bent double, both arms bent behind him. "Hm, no, don't think so." Said Angel cheerfully. "You didn't exactly take it like a man back there. I mean, pathetic. Really pathetic."  
  
William felt a flash of panic, but the cold wave of simple apathy overwhelmed it. "Oh, do your worst, tough guy." He managed to get out.  
  
"Hm. Think I will." Said Angel, letting William up. "You're late for class." He observed.  
  
"Class?" Asked William. He laughed. "Who cares?"  
  
Angel smiled widely. "Who indeed? You wanna come with me, meet the gang? Turn the town red?"  
  
Angel stared at him. "What?"  
  
"Oh, come on." Said Angel. "You wanna do it?"  
  
William shook his head, rubbing his face. "I'm going back to class." He said quietly.  
  
Angel grabbed him by the collar, lifting him into the air and slamming him against the wall behind him. William stared at him with wide-open eyes.  
  
"You don't get it, do you? I'm giving you a chance to join the gang. I'm gonna show you how to be so bad that a girl will never, ever dare to say something like that to you again. She might squeak like a mouse and run away, but you'll never get trampled."  
  
"W-why?" Stammered William.  
  
"Cuz, my boy, you remind me a lot of me." Said Angel. "You have spirit. I mean, you stood up to me back there. That's almost a first for me! And besides, I always like corrupting the innocent. Helps pass the time. All right, Willy: with me, or against me?"  
  
William pushed the bigger boy away, and slid to the ground. "With, I guess. Just don't call me Willy."  
  
"Well, I guess you'll need a new name, then." Said Angel. "Will, William, Willy. It just doesn't have that dangerous, violent feel to it."  
  
William managed a half-smile at that. "Right." He said.  
  
"Rule one: if there's trouble to be had, then by God, we'll have it!" Said Angel, patting William on the shoulder. "Got it?"  
  
**  
  
William faced his mother. "Sorry, mum." He said, just a bit sullenly.  
  
His mother shook her head. "You skipped classes. That's a first. That alone would have surprised me-would have thrown me off."  
  
William looked at the floor, feeling his stomach tightening. He couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe he hadn't thought of how this would affect his mother.  
  
"But then the police bring you home! The police, Will!" He winced. That had been a particularly bad touch.  
  
"And they tell me you were brawling, Will! Brawling! That you punched a boy, that you smashed another one with a railroad spike!" Will grinned at that, remembering the look on the football player's face. That had been worth it. "They say his parents aren't going to press charges, provided you leave the school. Leave the school, Will! Pull up roots and get out!"  
  
William sighed. "I'm sorry, mum." This time there was no sullenness. "I messed up."  
  
"Good and proper." She replied with a nod. "Unfortunately, the school agreed with the boys' parents. You've been expelled."  
  
"They can do that?" Asked William, surprised.  
  
"Yes, Will." Said his mother. "And I'm not arguing with them. Instead, I called your uncle."  
  
"Uncle?" Asked William, suddenly terrified.  
  
"I was wrong to think a single mother could raise a boy alone." She said.  
  
"No, mum, it wasn't you!"  
  
"And you hid it from me all this time, so I obviously have a blind spot. It's time you had a man around the house to teach you how to behave, to set you in line. I'm sending you to America, to stay with your uncle. He's already done the paperwork to get you enrolled in school there."  
  
"You did all that with one phone call?"  
  
"He works at the school, so it was easy for him. You'd better pack, Will. You're to leave tomorrow to go live in New York with your uncle."  
  
William felt tears streaming down his face. All this because he'd obeyed a whim and gone with Angel. All because of three hours of acting out. All because of his obsession with Cecily.  
  
As he packed he glumly tried to recall his uncle's face. All he could remember was a big man, which could be misleading, since he'd been six when he last saw his American uncle.  
  
Was the man even related? William searched his memory, trying to figure how his uncle was related, and finally settled on the theory that he must be a cousin, once or twice removed, and not actually an uncle.  
  
As he tried to sleep that night his mind kept wandering to Angel. And Angel's gang. And how they had tried to make him feel welcome, how they had tried to teach him how to live without fear, either of humiliation or anything else.  
  
He smiled.  
  
**  
  
As William got off the plane and looked through the crowd his eyes settled on a man of medium build with thinning hair, who was looking through the terminal with eyes as lost as his own.  
  
He headed for him. "Uncle Rupert?" He asked.  
  
"Oh! Er, William?" Asked his uncle, extending his hand. "Er, everybody here just calls me Giles. You can, er, of course call me anything you like, whatever comes naturally, I suppose."  
  
William shook his uncle's hand. "Thanks." He said in relief.  
  
"Well, have you got any other luggage?" Asked Giles.  
  
William shook his head. Giles slid his glasses off his face, wiping them with a handkerchief. William followed suit, doing the same. It was an old habit, one that allowed him time to think, and he barely realized the other man was doing the same.  
  
For a moment they stared at each other, and then they both smiled, little smiles.  
  
As they loaded his luggage into the trunk of Giles' car, William felt the need to speak. "You don't sound American." He said.  
  
"I'm not." Said Giles. "Far from it. That's just what they call me back home for having the gall not to come back. Life here is, well, they murder the language. And it's very different. But I've found it quite, ah, rewarding."  
  
As they drove away Giles glanced at William. "Now, I understand you're quite violent." He said quietly. William glanced at him, surprised. "I understand that. I had quite a, ah, wild youth myself. But this, this trying to hide who you really are, it won't work with me."  
  
William remembered the phone call, remembered what his mother thought he was, and his mouth twisted in a sardonic grin.  
  
"You can't fool me." Said Giles.  
  
William thought about that, and remembered the rough way Angel had spoken. "I guess not." He said, in as best an imitation of that accent as he could. It sounded atrocious to his ears.  
  
"Good." Said Giles. "I wondered when you were going to give up that silly attempt at an accent."  
  
William's eyes narrowed. So this sounded more real than his own voice, did it? So he expected a monster, did he?  
  
Well, why not? What was it Angel had said? Living a life free from humiliation, where nothing scares you?  
  
"I'll try not to break anybody's legs, but if the lot here are as much a bunch of poofters as the lot back home, it'll be hard." He said in his roughest voice.  
  
He glanced in the mirror as he said it, and winced. That picture was nothing like Angel, or any of the members of Angel's gang. It was a soft face. A babyish face.  
  
Well, they'd see about that.  
  
**  
  
"Spike." He said, testing the name. It wasn't quite right, but it would do, he decided. No time to think of a better name.  
  
Besides, this one had meaning. The poet in him could appreciate that.  
  
Ugh! Poet? No. He wasn't a poet. He was going to flunk his English class, he decided. No use them all realizing what a poof he used to be.  
  
He ran another hand along his stinging head, and pulled his hand back, blinking back tears. Now his hand hurt! He rubbed his hand on his shirt.  
  
And now the shirt's a loss too, he thought. Now I have to go shopping for a new wardrobe.  
  
**  
  
Giles pulled the car up, leaning back in the seat. "We're here, Will."  
  
"Spike." Said the bleached blonde automatically. Giles' mouth tightened into a scowl.  
  
"That's the name of the angry punk we both agreed was going to stay in New York."  
  
"The punk can stay. Name doesn't change."  
  
"Will." Said Giles warningly.  
  
"You sided with me then." Pointed out Spike, glancing at him.  
  
"And that's why I lost my job with the school. Please, Will. . .Spike. This time, this school, please try not to hurt anybody."  
  
"Not my fault the bloody poof tried to cut me with a knife!" Said Spike. "He only deserved what he got."  
  
"You put him in the hospital. As well as his girlfriend.  
  
Spike didn't squirm. "She had a knife too." He said. "What was I supposed to do, let her carve me up out of chivalry? I think not."  
  
Giles got out of the car. "Again, that's why I sided with you. And that's why I lost my job. Clean start, here. All right?"  
  
Spike grinned, pulling out the leather duster and putting it on. Giles frowned. "That duster, it's hers, isn't it? The girl whose arm you broke."  
  
Spike shrugged. "She didn't complain about it being gone." He said.  
  
Giles rolled his eyes. "You really are a remorseless little thug, aren't you?" He asked. "Maybe I should have just agreed to let them send you to jail instead of agreeing to pull you from high school. Maybe I should have let them go ahead and try you as an adult. God knows you deserved it."  
  
Spike shrugged. "So, this is the new flat." He said. "Hope it's bigger than that last one."  
  
Giles shuddered. "Me too." He admitted.  
  
**  
  
"So, class, we'll have a new student today!" Said Miss Calendar, her smile fixed in place.  
  
Buffy leaned over to Willow. "If it's a girl, just grab Xander. Don't let him near her." She whispered, ignoring Miss Calendar, who was trying to read her notes, and the bored bleached blonde standing beside her.  
  
Willow nodded, remembering the last visitor to Sunnydale. She'd crushed Xander's heart, utterly destroyed him, rendered him to tears-and the ungrateful brat had enjoyed it.  
  
She firmly set her eyes on him where he was sending puppy-dog eyes in Faith's direction. The slacker with violent tendencies was sitting in her chair, scrawling doodles all over the desk.  
  
"This is, er, William." Said Miss Calendar, examining the paper closely. "What's this note, William?" She asked, holding up a slip of paper off the desk.  
  
"My name." He said, motioning to the slip of paper. "That's my name."  
  
"Isn't William your name?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Look, my parents may have had bad taste and not a single ounce of wit between the two of them, but you can't hold that against me." He said. "My name is Spike."  
  
"Spike?" Asked Faith. "As in. . ?" She leered at him, causing a few giggles around the room. Miss Calendar glared at Faith, giving her a look that clearly spoke of misery ahead.  
  
"Well, as it's on my school record, right there," Spike pointed a piece of paper on Miss Calendar's desk, "you might just read it for the class." He smirked at her, and she quirked one eyebrow up, sniffing the air.  
  
Cigarettes. Naturally. Wasn't his uncle the new librarian? This was going to be horrid.  
  
She flipped his school record up. "Ah, here we go. Episode with another student where you used a railroad spike to-break his leg?"  
  
There was a dead silence in the room. Spike turned to the class, letting his eyes roam over the collection of mouths that had dropped open. "Yeah, that's the one." He said.  
  
**  
  
A/N: A nine-page teaser and prologue!! Well, that's brutal. Let me know what you think. And come on, you know Spike's a real BAD BOY. I mean, brutally bad! So, it's of the good. And, seriously, I like Faith/Spike. That's the direction. But that DOESN'T, I repeat DOESN'T preclude friendship with the Scoobies. That's the whole point, isn't it? To tame Spike after wilding him? Wilding. . .I made up a word just like Buffy would do! Yay! 


	2. This new school is bloody violent!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Summary: Sweet William became bad, violent, Spike, and now he's in Sunnydale.  
  
Buffy sat down at the lunch table beside Willow. "So, any news on the new guy?" She asked.  
  
"Well, I think what's-his-name, you know, Mister Trick, has been talking to him." Said Xander.  
  
"Mister Trick?" Asked Willow.  
  
"It's what he likes to be called." Said Xander. "Does anybody remember anybodies real names?"  
  
"So it looks like the gangs are already moving in on him, huh?" Asked Buffy. "Not surprising after that whole railroad spike thing. I thought Faith was gonna die she was laughing so hard."  
  
"We could only wish." Said Willow darkly.  
  
"Hey, she's just a messed-up kid." Said Xander. "Go easy on her!"  
  
"Guys, guys, break it up." Said Buffy. She sighed. "He's gonna be trouble. Big trouble. Don't we have enough violent kids in this school?"  
  
Willow shuddered. "Let's go by the library, meet the new librarian." She suggested.  
  
"More books, Will?" Groaned Xander.  
  
"Wait, isn't this the one that Synder hired because he has experience dealing with violent kids and gangs?" Asked Buffy.  
  
"Yep!" Said Willow. "I'm thinking it would be nice to know him. Give him the lowdown on what really goes on around here."  
  
Buffy looked across the room. "Hold that thought. We have a 10-40 in progress."  
  
"Oh, oh! I know that code!" Said Xander. "10-40! That, that's, uh. . .Will?"  
  
"Somebody's selling drugs in the hall?" Asked Willow, glancing over her shoulder.  
  
"Will, Will." Chided Buffy. "That's 10-30. 10-40 means somebody's picking on Jonathan."  
  
Jonathan had been backed up into a corner by a large student, whose pupils appeared to be dilated right out of existence. "What, you're too good for us, Levinson?" He demanded.  
  
"I, I'm just saying I don't have time for any clubs after school." Stammered Jonathan.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Asked the kid, looking both ways. "The gang ain't a club, stupid, it's a family."  
  
"Hey." Said Buffy. "What's going on here?"  
  
"Get lost, Summers!" Snarled the big kid.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Not happening." She said. She waited till he tried to punch her, and then reacted with lightning speed.  
  
The move was as subtle as it was dangerous. As she grabbed his arm at the wrist and elbow and twisted he let out a gasp. She whipped him around, using the pressure to make him move the way she wanted him to move.  
  
He tried to resist, but the pain of his arm being pulled out of the socket was enough to force him to the ground, where she added an extra wrench before letting go, allowing his arm to return to its natural state, leaving him gasping.  
  
She glanced at Jonathan. "Geez, Jon, can't you stay out of trouble?" She asked. He shrugged.  
  
"Thanks." He squeaked, moving away.  
  
"Groovy moves." Said Xander from behind her. Willow nodded her approval.  
  
"A new move I've been working on." A look of sorrow passed quickly over the blonde girl's face, vanishing before her friends saw. "Let's go see this new librarian. If he's as useless as the last guy, I'm gonna . . . Well, I'd be mad." She trailed off lamely.  
  
"Wesley the gimp?" Asked Xander. "He made me look downright useful!"  
  
As the three entered the library they found Riley standing there, silently accepting books from the librarian, a medium height man with thinning hair and glasses. When he spoke with was with a polite, urbane English accent. "Er, that's the last of your classes. Quite a few this semester, eh?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not taking all of these." Said Riley in his softest voice. "I'm tutoring for Biology and Math, and I'm a Teaching Assistant for Basic English."  
  
The librarian nodded. "Er, yes. Well, then, anytime you need books, you know where to come."  
  
Buffy leaned against the doorjamb. "Doesn't the captain of the football thing have better things to do with his time?" She asked teasingly. Riley turned, grinning when he saw her.  
  
"Buffy! Ah, your hair's mussed." His mouth curled into a frown. "Have you been fighting again?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Somebody was trying to make Jonathan join a gang." She glanced at Willow and Xander, who nodded affirmatives.  
  
Riley sighed. "I wish you'd let me handle these things." He said. "I know, you've got all your karate training and stuff, but I worry about you. Those guys can be nasty."  
  
The librarian leaned forward. "That look she's giving you now? I think it means she'd prefer not to talk in front of me."  
  
"Oh! Sorry, Buffy." Said Riley. "But Giles is really cool." The librarian gave an embarrassed, half grateful chuckle.  
  
"Cool?" He said. "More slang."  
  
"Really cool, huh?" Asked Buffy. "I heard you were hired because you've had experience in tough schools."  
  
Giles considered that. "Well, yes." He said, his smile turning sheepish. "Er, what do you want?"  
  
"Books on self-defense?" Said Buffy sweetly. "On this campus, those should be required reading. Do you have any."  
  
"Er, no. En, encouraging students to more violence seems counter- productive to ending the violence."  
  
Willow nodded furiously. Buffy gave her a look, and she began shaking her head furiously.  
  
"Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire." Said Buffy.  
  
Giles frowned. "You have gangs on campus? What about drugs?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "You want PCP? Speed? Oh, I have one: how about some nice crack cocaine!"  
  
Giles frowned. "No need to be flippant."  
  
**  
  
Spike faced Mister Trick. The tall black student took another drag on his cigarette, and Spike's eyes drifted to the cigarette.  
  
Hm. Either Mister Trick was rolling his own, and very badly, or. . .  
  
"So, how about it, Spike?" Asked Mister Trick. "You wanna join the Vampires? I'm telling you, man, the gang owns this school, owns this town!"  
  
Spike considered. "You chits want me, you have to interest me." He said, bored.  
  
"Chits? What's that slang for?" Asked Mister Trick suspiciously. "Is that cuz I'm black?"  
  
"Chit, idiot, moron, bloody ponce." Said Spike. He decided he'd had enough, and snatched the cigarette out of Mister Trick's mouth, taking a drag off it as Mister Trick's mouth fell open.  
  
"You -" Trick took his shot, punching Spike in the face.  
  
Angel's first rule of fighting: pain is your friend. Pain lets you know you're alive. That, and if you channel it into a proper rage, it can help you fight.  
  
Spike laughed and punched Trick.  
  
Angel's second rule of fighting: pain is your friend. You want to introduce people to your friend. And let them get to know each other really, really well.  
  
Spike dragged Trick to the ground, not letting up. With each blow he was laughing harder.  
  
Angel's third rule of fighting: there's no such thing as going too far.  
  
Spike hauled Trick to his feet and decked him, laying the now-dazed student out flat on the ground.  
  
Spike took a long drag on the cigarette, and then dropped it on Trick's chest, carefully putting it out with the heel of his boot. Trick moaned.  
  
"I tell you what, mate, you intrigue me." Said Spike. "Maybe I will join your little gang." He grinned. "Maybe teach you guys a thing or two about real gangs."  
  
Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and another on his elbow, and he was spun around. He found himself moving with it, not resisting, and laughed when he saw the pretty blonde from Jenny Calendar's class. "Well, Muffy. Fancy meeting you here."  
  
Buffy glanced at Trick. "What was that all about?" She asked angrily. "You can't just beat up other students."  
  
"Can, and did." Said Spike. "Wanna make something of it?" He leered at her.  
  
She squashed his nose flat against his face with the heel of her palm. "Maybe." She said.  
  
"Ow!" He howled, clutching his nose. "Bloody hell!" He hurled a punch at her, one she fluidly blocked, twisting his arm so that his elbow was suddenly straining unnaturally.  
  
Angel's fourth rule: if the other guy's winning, then cheat.  
  
Spike kicked her in the leg sharply, knocking her off balance. As she fell back, surprised, he closed, swinging at her face. This time she didn't have time to block, and he hit her.  
  
"Hey!" Said a rumbling voice, and a huge jock attacked Spike, swinging a punch at him.  
  
"Oh, your boyfriend, Muffy?" Asked Spike, reeling from the punch. He kicked out viciously, hitting the wanna-be rescuer in the crotch.  
  
As he fell Spike felt a foot hit him in the back of knee. As he started to lose his balance a hand grabbed his throat and pulled backwards, and a kick to the back of the leg that had stayed steady dropped him to the floor, hard.  
  
He lay there a second, the wind driven out of his lungs.  
  
"You just play nice with the other kids." Said Buffy.  
  
"Who died and made you class protector?" He coughed weakly. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Mr. Merrick, I guess." She said. "God, get a life."  
  
**  
  
A/N: Buffy and Spike's first meeting! Sigh. It was almost like a date, wasn't it, with the romantic repartee.... Riley: "You idiot! He hit a girl!" Well, of course. He's baaaadddd to the bone. 


	3. Vigilante

Summary: AU, High School. Spike just got to the school, and it looks bad. And he likes that. He is, after all, the Big Bad.  
  
Spike examined Riley while pretending to study his homework. The huge, soft-spoken football player -well, hold on. It was rugby. Never mind their insistence that it was football. Spike knew enough about sports to tell football from rugby.  
  
Americans were just so confused.  
  
Anyway, the huge, soft-spoke football player was talking to Buffy.  
  
Spike made no effort to hide his leer as he watched Buffy. After all, he was the Big Bad. If everybody else didn't have the sense to be scared of him, especially after he'd wiped the floor with Mister Trick (wasn't the kids real name Barney or something?), then they were too dumb for words.  
  
And Buffy was cute. In fact, she was down-right beautiful. Spike would know: he was the world's foremost expert on women.  
  
Okay, his last girl-friend (and first) in New York had just been too scared to break it off with somebody who had absolutely no qualms about violence. Still, he understood women.  
  
And the fact that she had been able to toss him around with her little kung fu had impressed him mightily. And turned him on.  
  
He wondered what they were talking about.  
  
**  
  
"Buffy, I just wish you'd let me handle these things."  
  
"Riley, you don't handle these things. You just go tell some adult or responsible figure who does nothing." Said Buffy, her tone cynical.  
  
"I just worry about you, Buffy. You try to help little geeks like Jonathan, and eventually somebody's going to get a little too mad, and then you'll get hurt."  
  
"None of the muscle-bound pinheads out there can lay a finger on me." She said dismissively.  
  
"Spike can." Said Riley, glaring at the British student, who didn't stop ogling Buffy. "He hit me pretty hard, Buffy."  
  
"Yeah." Said Buffy, biting her lower lip. "He's not like the others. He scares me, Riley. They're just stupid, think they own the world cuz they can bully this little school around. He's different. He had Trick down on the ground, Riley!"  
  
Riley touched her arm. "You know I love you, Buffy." He said, his face hurt. "Please don't go out tonight."  
  
She jerked her arm free, her face hard. "And then what? We'll find Jonathan dead somewhere, or find another student dead of an overdose, that's what."  
  
"You're not the cops, and you're not superman!" Said Riley. She glared at him.  
  
"I can take any one of them down." She said seriously.  
  
"Scuse me." Said Spike, tapping Riley's shoulder. Riley whirled, his fists coming up. "Oo, please don't hit me mister big tough rugby player. I think I'd just cry if you did." Spike glanced at Buffy. "What's this about you going out to play tonight?" A smile flickered around his mouth. "You go out at night and fight crime? Help the helpless?"  
  
She smiled sweetly at him. "Why don't you come out tonight and find out-- or, potentially, get your nuts kicked up your little non-existent spine."  
  
He laughed. "Oh, manly threats. I'm so scared." He grinned wider, glancing at Riley. "What, all downcast cuz the little woman is so much more manly than you? I'm sure you'll get over it. Someday you'll make a beautiful bride, when she leads you down the aisle."  
  
Riley's face was a mask, hiding whatever he was thinking. "You get out of here." He said.  
  
"Or what? You'll batter my poor defenseless fists with your face?" Taunted Spike. "I'm leaving." He added when Riley tensed to fight him. "By the by, what kind of stupid name is Vampires for a gang?"  
  
"They like blood." Said Buffy. "Cut open a kid last month and dripped blood all over the third floor."  
  
Spike grinned. "Sounds fun." He said. "I wonder if there's a fee for signing up."  
  
He turned and walked away, whistling as he went. Buffy's hands, formed into fists, gradually relaxed as he got farther away.  
  
"What a jerk." Said Riley.  
  
"Yeah." Said Buffy. "So, I'll see you later. I've gotta get home."  
  
**  
  
Buffy walked into her own home with a false smile, acting cheerful. "Hi, mom, I'm home!" She said.  
  
Joyce turned and looked at her daughter blankly. "Buffy, honey? What happened to your face?"  
  
"Bet she 'fell down the stairs' again." Said little twelve-year-old Dawn, making air-quotes with her fingers.  
  
"God, Dawn! Those are sooooo out of style now." Said Buffy, running up the stairs. Joyce watched her go, worry etched in her face. Dawn snickered, hugging her mother.  
  
"Don't worry, mom, she's just bein` mean like always." She said.  
  
**  
  
Giles considered the police officer in front of him. "You're not allowed to carry firearms? Is the mayor mad?"  
  
"No, he's pretty calm most the time." Said the policeman. "Bit crazy, but not mad. And if you think about the headline--cop shoots teenager--it's not a pretty picture. It really does make sense."  
  
Giles shook his head. "And the dealers?"  
  
"We have nothing on anybody, as far as dealers go. And we nail a kid every so often, but that only goes so far."  
  
Giles sighed, shaking his head and glancing around. "Well, it's a nice jail." He observed.  
  
"Here he is." Said another cop, entering the office. "William, say hi to your uncle."  
  
"Sod off." Muttered Spike, marching in the door. He was wearing the leather duster again, and glowered at the cops.  
  
"What about night-sticks? Mace?" Asked Giles.  
  
The first policeman shook his head. "No, nothing."  
  
"Let's go." Said Giles, grabbing Spike by the arm. Spike followed sullenly.  
  
"Stupid cops." He said after they'd left the jail.  
  
Giles hauled him against the side of the building, his face hard. "This town is falling apart at the seams, Spike. I would suggest that you pay attention to somebody's problems besides your own for a change!"  
  
Spike pushed him away. "Mate, you do that again and I'll kill you." He said. He turned and walked away.  
  
"Ungrateful burk." Muttered Giles.  
  
**  
  
Buffy dropped the large bag on her bed, then reached under the bed and pulled out a nightstick, dropping it into the bag. Then she slid an arm between the mattresses of her bed, pulling out a pair of nunchuks.  
  
Xander and Willow stood watching her unhappily. "This is a bad idea." Warned Willow. "After the beating Mister Trick received they're going to want blood, Buffy."  
  
"The freaks always want blood." Said Buffy. "And if I don't stop them, whose will it be? The cops aren't going to help, too scared of another one of them getting knifed. If not me, then who?"  
  
Xander scowled. "What if they have a gun?"  
  
"Then I get to really hurt them." Said Buffy sweetly.  
  
Willow shook her head. "This kind of vigilantism isn't right, you know."  
  
"What's not right is letting some poor geek like Jonathan get killed." Said Buffy, tying her hair back. "  
  
Buffy carefully packed a large bag, stuffing a nightstick into it, then a pair of nunchucks. Xander and Willow watched nervously.  
  
"So, here we are." Said Xander.  
  
"Ready for anything!" Added Willow.  
  
Buffy gave them a small smile. "You guys just stay here and try not to get hurt." She said. Xander's face fell. "I'll tell you how it went when I get back."  
  
She left the house with the bag over her shoulder, walking stiffly. She headed for the park, location of most of the incidents.  
  
What was wrong with the vast majority of the students? Didn't they realize that the Vampires and the Demons were in a turf war? Didn't they realize that walking the streets would get them hurt, or worse? Didn't they realize all that? Or were they just so pumped up with testosterone that they had to go out, had to face the danger?  
  
Whatever the answer, there was a group of three gang members terrorizing yet another stupid kid. She recognized the skinny guitar player, and her scowl returned.  
  
"Oz!" She said, moving closer. She put her right arm behind her back, into the bag slung casually. "What are you doing out?" She asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Band's playing at the Bronze tonight." He said.  
  
The number of words coming out of his mouth told Buffy that he knew he was in great danger, told her that the punks around him had probably already hit him. So she moved, not waiting for them to start the fight.  
  
The sai in her hands looked like a slender dagger with a sharp point, but it was actually much heavier than it looked. She whipped it around, using it as a club. She smashed it into one head, then kicked another. As they both yelped she shifted to a two-handed grip on the sai and crashed into the third gang-member's face.  
  
As they backed away slowly she slipped the sai back into her bag, coming out with a pair on nunchuks. As she began whirling the metal-weighted stick on the end of the chain the three gang members began to back away.  
  
"That's right." She said softly. "Run along."  
  
They ran.  
  
Buffy quickly stowed the nunchuks away, sparing a glare for Oz, who shrugged. "Sorry." He said simply, heading for the Bronze. She followed him.  
  
"You know, there's a new kid at the school." Said Buffy. "I'd appreciate it if you kept on eye on him."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the one." Said Buffy. "He hit me." She touched her face. "I didn't think anyone could hit me. But he's good. He ignored the pain, channeled the pain. He's not like the others, not just some stupid high frat boy. He's smart, he's violent." She glanced at Oz. "He's not going to go away just because I know karate."  
  
**  
  
Spike examined his hands. The knuckles were bleeding, and hurt a lot.  
  
Pain is your friend.  
  
"Let me get this straight. The bint knows kung fu, and you run away from her?"  
  
"What else are we gonna do, eh?" Asked Trick, who was holding his head and glaring at Spike.  
  
Spike grinned. "Find her, kill her. Know where she lives?"  
  
"Revello street." Said Trick. "We all avoid that street."  
  
"Well, that's where I'm going, then." Said Spike.  
  
"You're nuts!" Exploded Trick. "She's nuts, pure nuts! She breaks kneecaps, she can make grown men cry!"  
  
Spike grinned. "Sounds great." He said.  
  
**  
  
A/N: Yes, more fights and less smoochies for the next chapter. But don't worry, soon, despite their hatred for each other, Spike and Buffy will be forced to team up. 


	4. The Fight

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Buffy stood in the midst of the madness and chaos that was the Bronze, and tried to enjoy herself. Oz was playing his guitar, playing remarkably well. Much better than he would with the broken fingers he was going to get if he kept hanging around outside after dark.  
  
And maybe Buffy wouldn't be the one to break them, if he wasn't lucky.  
  
A familiar platinum-blonde head appeared in the crowd, and she stifled a groan. Maybe he hadn't seen her.  
  
Spike approached her, grinning. "Nice band." He said, glancing at the band, then back at her. He grinned. "Fancy a dance, love?"  
  
"With you? I'd have to be dead before you'd have a chance." She replied.  
  
"Oh, nasty." He chuckled. He moved closer, starting to invade her personal space. She held her ground.  
  
"You're trash, Spike." She said. "Just a pig, like the rest of them."  
  
He grinned dangerously. "You ready for a rematch?" He asked.  
  
"Anytime." She said coldly.  
  
"Oh, the time is now." He said.  
  
That's when the Demons crashed the place.  
  
They came in the front door, led by their leader, wearing a strange orange coat that made Spike a bit dizzy.  
  
"All right, ducks, funs over!" He snarled, turning in circles. The kids on the dance floor got off, fast, and several tried to go out the exits. "Tonight we'll party like it's the year 2000!"  
  
Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Spike started laughing. Buffy gave him an ugly glare, reaching back into her bag and fetching a nightstick. That would be the best weapon.  
  
"Unbelievable!" Said Spike, shaking his head. "You lot are unbelievable!" He took a drink out of his cup, savoring the taste of alcohol--it wasn't every bartender that was dumb enough to serve him without carding him.  
  
Their leader approached him, his face dark. "You dare to mock me?" Demanded the leader.  
  
"Depends. Who are you?" Asked Spike.  
  
"I'm Adam." Snarled the other boy, contorting his face. "And before you-- "  
  
Spike casually punched Adam in the face, knocking him down. The other Demons shifted uneasily. "Now, your gang is what, all of ten blokes?" He glanced around the room. "I don't see more. Ten blokes." Spike grinned. "Doesn't seem like a fair fight. Should I tie one hand behind my back?"  
  
One of them, a taller student wearing a headband, grunted. Then he charged Spike, running at him.  
  
Spike responded by jumping up, smashing both feet into the gang-member with a flying kick that dropped them both to the ground. As he crawled to his feet, kicking the Demon, the others stepped back again.  
  
"If you blokes had any idea what you were doing, I'd be the one afraid, not you." Spat Spike. "Pathetic. Adam boy was your leader?" One of them nodded faintly. "Not anymore." Said Spike, grinning.  
  
Buffy hit him in the face, a round backhand that smarted more than anything else. He snarled, swinging at her, which was what she wanted.  
  
She dodged easily, using his momentum to swing him around, slamming his face into a wall without any trouble at all.  
  
"You sure about that?" Asked Buffy.  
  
That's when the Vampires arrived.  
  
It was a fight from the moment Trick and the self-proclaimed Master saw Adam on the floor. They rushed the Demon gang, howling and punching and kicking and biting and gouging.  
  
Buffy whirled into action, trying to down as many as she could, as quickly as she could. She whirled through the room, striking and dancing on, striking and dancing on. Fluid, graceful, and--  
  
Spike grabbed her arm, whirling her around. His nose was bloody, and he looked unhappy.  
  
"Fine!" He said, punching a Demon who was approaching them. "You really want a fight?"  
  
He threw a punch at her. She tried to dodge, but he was moving his leg, and she saw he meant to kick her when she dodged. She rolled back, instead, catching the punch but rolling with it.  
  
He followed up, still angry.  
  
She knew he was feeding off the pain, and she knew he was just going to get angrier and stronger unless she could drop him. Most boys, if you hit them somewhere soft, would stop fighting to go whimper about how it hurt.  
  
Spike didn't whimper.  
  
"Oh, yes." Said Spike harshly, a smile playing around his lips. "This. This is fun."  
  
Buffy whirled, using muscles that had been honed by years of practice. Her heel swept back, knocking him away and down.  
  
Her trainer, Merrick, had been a good martial artist. He'd seen in Buffy the potential to be Olympics material.  
  
After his death, she'd dropped karate. It seemed pointless. A waste of her time.  
  
But fighting, actually fighting for something real, that was Merrick's legacy. She spun again, this time planting her heel in his face. A crescent kick finished him off, knocking him down.  
  
And then he got up, rolling his head on his shoulders, grinning widely.  
  
"Naughty, naughty!" He said.  
  
He was like her. Tough.  
  
She whipped the night-stick around, smacking him on the head, downing him for the count.  
  
Unlike her, he had no real training at all in fighting.  
  
**  
  
Spike woke up to a pounding headache, in the back of a van. He rose slowly, probing his tender skull and finding an enormous lump there.  
  
"Ow." He said.  
  
A red-headed girl turned nervously around from the front seat. "Oh! He's awake."  
  
The guitar player from the band was driving, noted Spike. He sat up, glowering at the red-head, who made nervous noises.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" He asked.  
  
"Back to the school." Said the guitar player.  
  
"Buffy said it was the best place to put you. You know, so nobody would try to take your wallet or anything. Not that I think the people at the Bronze are bad!" Stammered the red-head.  
  
"Ergh!" Spike clutched his head. "That witch." He muttered. "She clocked me but good."  
  
Willow watched him nervously. He made a face at her, and she made a whimpering sound, shrinking back.  
  
"Didn't expect me to wake up so soon, eh?" He asked, sinking down into the chair. "Hey, turn left up there. My flat's not too far away."  
  
Oz did so calmly. Spike examined the too-calm guitar player, then glanced away.  
  
"So you're Buffy's friends, eh?" He asked.  
  
"I am." Said Willow. "Oz is, uh, the guitar player." Spike examined Oz again, reevaluating.  
  
"And you let me in your van because she told you to? Heh." He rubbed his head. "Can't believe that whole mess. How many gangs do you blokes have tearing up this town, anyway?"  
  
"Just two." Said Willow. "The Demons and the Vampires."  
  
Spike grinned. "Stop here, I can walk from here." As the van stopped he leaned forward, closer to Willow, who shrank back. "Tell Buffy I'll be back in the Bronze tomorrow night, would you, pet?" He asked her. She nodded, and he smiled. "Hey, cheer up, pet. Tonight she won." He grinned. "We'll see about tomorrow." 


	5. The second Fight

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Giles opened the door, staring out at his nephew. His nephew smiled at him, still reeling a little. "Big fight at the Bronze, Giles." He said, starting to topple. Giles grabbed him, supporting him.  
  
"You git." He sighed, dragging Spike to the couch where he dropped him. He stared at his snoring nephew and shook his head, walking back across the room.  
  
When he woke up the boy was sitting at the table, holding his head. Giles sat down opposite him. "Hangover?" He asked.  
  
"Less painful." Groaned Spike. "Who gave her nunchuks and such anyways, eh?"  
  
Giles perked up a bit. "You faced a girl with nunchuks?" He asked. "That's. . . interesting."  
  
"Painful is the word you're searching for." Growled Spike. "Now leave me be."  
  
"No, I think not." Said Giles. "Who hit you? Was it Buffy Summers?"  
  
"Yes." Said Spike, glancing at Giles in surprise.  
  
"The girl's a regular little stormtrooper." Said Giles. "I'm supposed to reign her in. That's what the principal told me. Truthfully, I'd rather reign in everyone else. Now consider, she stands up for the underdogs in this school. She's tough, she's bad, and she's pretty. Whose side do you really want to be on?"  
  
Spike scowled at Giles.  
  
"This _is_ a graded question." Added Giles.  
  
"Graded?"  
  
"Right and wrong answer. You really want to join the freaks out there? Or you want to be part of a gang that includes her?"  
  
"You're full of it." Sneered Spike, standing. "And I'm going to be late for school. Let's get out of here."  
  
**  
  
As Spike walked down the hall he noticed the students shrinking back from him, afraid. Although on one level it was kind of fun, on another level it made him cringe. What a bunch of pansies, afraid of him! Didn't they know real fear?  
  
Well, of course they did. He wasn't just putting on an act. He had become the Big Bad. Everything that Angel had thought he was, Spike had become. Everything that Giles was afraid of, Spike had become. Every fear he'd ever encountered, he had become.  
  
He saw Buffy Summers, and grinned.  
  
He'd find out what she was afraid of soon enough.  
  
"Oy, Summers!" He yelled. She whirled, facing him. He stalked closer.  
  
"Good work getting the jump on me last night." He said, sneering. "We'll see how effective that is twice tonight, eh?"  
  
"I said before, anytime, anyplace, Spike." She spat, then turned and ran off to class.  
  
Spike left. He never had bothered with class very much at all. It was just a waste of his time.  
  
That evening, before school had let out, he headed down for her place. Finding it was easy. He leaned against the tree in front, examining the quiet suburbia.  
  
A twelve year old girl approached him, wrinkling her nose. "Are you here to fight Buffy?" She asked.  
  
"Sure am." He said cheerfully. "What are you, her tackle dummy?"  
  
The kid had the nerve to giggle. "I'm her sister, Dawn." She said seriously. "She's gonna kick your butt, you know."  
  
He grinned. "Maybe I'll kick hers."  
  
"Doesn't happen. She was gonna be in the Olympics, you know, till Mr. Merrick died."  
  
"Aw, what a shame. Now she'll just be a high-school dropout." Mocked Spike. Dawn giggled some more.  
  
"Dawn!" An older woman was scowling, watching them. "Come in here this minute!"  
  
"S'alright." Said Spike, waving a hand jauntily. "I'm a friend of Buffy's."  
  
She relaxed a little. "Oh, you must be Xander, then." She said.  
  
"No, I'm Spike." He said, smiling. She approached him.  
  
"Spike?" She asked. "I haven't heard that name before."  
  
"I'm new." He clarified. "Crazy town you have here."  
  
She sighed. "We're right on the end of the drug pipeline. It's blasted annoying, that's what it is."  
  
Spike nodded sympathetically. "I bet." He said. He glanced around the neighborhood. "Do you usually have all those gang members on the corner?" He asked casually.  
  
Buffy's mother looked both ways. "Dawn, go in the house right now." She said flatly.  
  
There was a noise by the door, and then the door slammed shut. Trick was standing by the door, holding it closed. "No, no." He said. "Stay out here, Dawnie."  
  
Buffy's mother looked at Spike, panic in her eyes, as she put two and two together and came up with five.  
  
He looked back steadily. "Don't panic." He said flatly.  
  
"Mom!" Buffy was running down the sidewalk. Trick walked towards Dawn, grinning. He had a knife in his hand.  
  
"Stop right there." He said. Buffy stopped.  
  
All around the gang members closed in, punks dressed in baggy pants. High school gang members. Kids.  
  
Spike looked around.  
  
"You ticked me off bad, Spike." Hissed Trick. "Now you and Summers are dog meat."  
  
Spike didn't respond, staring at the little girl. She was staring back at him, and she mouthed something.  
  
Reading lips wasn't his bag.  
  
"Just say it, Bit." He snapped.  
  
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I said, you're a putz."  
  
He glowered at her, ignoring Trick. "I'm a putz? Say, how would you like to be drop-kicked through your big window, there?" He pointed to the French windows on the side of her house. "Huh?"  
  
Then he whirled, grabbing Trick, and yanked him headfirst into the tree.  
  
Dawn grabbed her mother's hand, running for the French doors.  
  
"You're gonna cut me, huh?!" Spike demanded angrily, slamming Trick's head against the tree. All around him the gang members closed in.  
  
But Buffy was there, spinning and kicking and jumping and slashing. The gang members tried to escape, but Spike was there slamming his fist into faces and Buffy's foot found faces faster than any of them could move.  
  
As the fury of the battle died down and the gang members began running away Trick found his feet again, slashing at Spike, catching him across the chest.  
  
Spike responded by planting the toe of his boot in Trick's crotch, dropping him.  
  
He and Buffy stood alone and triumphant, panting for breath, when they heard a scream from inside. She froze for a split-second, but he didn't, charging the French doors.  
  
A single student was standing there, holding Dawn by the throat, babbling some threat at her mother. Spike grabbed him by the neck, squeezing hard, and headbutted him, knocking all three of them to the ground, Dawn trapped between the two boys.  
  
Spike straddled them both, slamming his fist into the boy's face several times. "Get your hands off her!" He snarled, continuing to punch long after the other boy's whole body had gone slack.  
  
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him off. He turned, facing Buffy, who was staring at him.  
  
"Don't think you're getting off easy, Slutty!" He snapped, waving a finger in her face. "You and I are still going to fight!"  
  
She punched him and he fell backwards, passing out.  
  
**  
  
Spike woke up with a moan, hearing voices. "Lost a lot of blood. . . maybe we should take him to the hospital."  
  
"Spike's fine, mom." Said Buffy.  
  
Spike's eyes snapped open. He was lying on a couch, and Buffy was sitting on the slight bit of couch left over beside him, putting a bandage on his bare chest. He felt a flash of embarrassment, one he quickly squashed.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asked. She grabbed his shoulders, holding him down.  
  
"You helped my sister, so I'm going to be civil. But you open your mouth, and you're going to be missing teeth."  
  
He glanced to her belt, where a set of nunchuks were tucked. Grumbling he settled back.  
  
"Buffy, isn't that a bit harsh. . .?" Asked her mother.  
  
"Mom, this is _Spike._" Said Buffy flatly. "He's one of them."  
  
Spike frowned. "Although, not specifically them." He noted. "I'm thinking maybe the demons would be better--although I whomped a few of them, too. It might just be best to start my own gang."  
  
Buffy glared at him. "What did we say about talking?" She asked.  
  
He smiled. "My, you're cute when you're angry. Can you just finish patching me up so we can get to the part where we fight?"  
  
"Sure." She said, roughly slapping on the tape to hold the bandage in place. "That's a nasty cut." She said. "You didn't even notice it." She stood up, moving away, allowing him to sit up.  
  
And why shouldn't he have his shirt off in front of three girls? After all, he'd put a lot of work into looking as fine and sculpted as he did. He grinned, picking up his torn and bloodied shirt, but not putting it back on.  
  
"Pain's my friend." He told her. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"All right, you're patched up. Get out." She pointed to the door.  
  
"Buffy!" Said her mother. She extended her hand. "I'm Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother, and I think you already met Dawn."  
  
He smiled at her, a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, I met Dawn. Cute kid. For a brat."  
  
Buffy choked down a response, glaring at him. Dawn wavered, and he felt a slight pang of remorse.  
  
He covered by turning on Buffy, pulling his shirt on, and throwing a discreet wink in Dawn's direction. "Well, Slutty, I've got to get going. People to kill."  
  
Dawn brightened up visibly. "Kill?" She asked. Joyce recoiled, but Spike ignored her, focusing on Buffy. "See you around." He said.  
  
As he went out the door the belated thought that he was being stupid flashed through his head. But he forced it down, just as he forced down most other intelligent thoughts.  
  
If he had considered his situation at all he would have realized exactly what he had done, cutting off the only ally he'd made since coming to a place where allies were everything. He would have realized that he should have been listening to his uncle.  
  
But then, thinking had never been his strong suit. 


	6. Parley

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Spike was in the Bronze when Adam and his entire gang approached him, surrounding him. He looked at them, a puzzled look on his face.  
  
"So you're the newest member of the Geek Gang." Mocked Adam.  
  
"Sod off." Said Spike, taking another drink.  
  
"I heard today you helped the big geek herself beat up the Vampires." Said Adam. "Not that I don't admire somebody who beats Vampires, but you can't seem to get it through your thick skull that you pick a side."  
  
Spike picked up the flowering onion. "This is brilliant, you know?" He munched on it. "And you gits can't seem to get it through your head what I am." He stood up, wishing he had his leather duster on. It was so much easier to intimidate with it on.  
  
Adam took a step back, suddenly unsure.  
  
"I'm the Big Bad." Said Spike. "You lot think you know gangs because you snort drugs?" He sneered, moving closer. "The gangs I've been with would eat you alive."  
  
Adam punched him, knocking him back into the table. Spike frowned, then laughed, throwing his head back.  
  
He was still sore from his last fight, but fighting was fun. It was what he did.  
  
He launched himself forward, grabbing Adam, and slammed his knee into the other boy's gut. When Adam doubled over he used the other knee, this time into Adam's head.  
  
The other Demon's piled on, slamming fists and feet into him. As he went down under their combined weight, his last coherent thought was 'ow.'  
  
**  
  
Giles examined Spike. "Seems to me they didn't do a very professional job of it." He noted.  
  
Spike sulked, rubbing his bruised face. "It was a downright brawl." He said. "I barely got out of there by the skin of my teeth."  
  
"Mm. And according to the bartender, you left a path of injured children behind you." Said Giles. Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yes, I'm bad, sorry, can we have this discussion later?" He asked petulantly.  
  
"No." Said Giles. "I'm pulling you out of this school. It's, it's. . ." He sighed, taking his glasses off to wipe them. "It's just a little too much. It's a bad influence on you. You're violent enough without. . .without being here."  
  
Spike grunted. "Can't say I'm surprised. But not just yet." He added quickly. "I can't go out like a whipped cur. First I need a little bout of revenge."  
  
There was a knock at the door. Giles got up, moving to it. "I'm not expecting anybody." He noted. "Friends of yours?"  
  
"I haven't made any friends." Said Spike. "I doubt it."  
  
Giles opened it, revealing Willow standing there. She gave a tiny jump, surprised to see him. "Hi!" She chirped. "I'm a friend of Spike's!"  
  
Giles stared at her for a long moment, leaving her fidgeting. "Can I come in?" She asked.  
  
"Please do." Said Giles, shooting a glare at Spike.  
  
"If it isn't one of the expendable sidekicks!" Said Spike sarcastically. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, I was the only one who knew where your house was." Said Willow. "And Buffy. . .well, she didn't want me to come alone, but I did." She glanced at Giles. "M-mister Giles is your father?"  
  
"Uncle." Said Giles. "And I take no credit whatsoever for his upbringing."  
  
Spike scowled. "Sod off." He suggested.  
  
"Watch your tongue." Suggested Giles. He glanced to Willow, whose eyes were very wide. "Yes, what did you want, miss. . .?"  
  
"Rosenberg." She said. "Willow Rosenberg. Well, Buffy heard you got beat up at the Bronze tonight."  
  
"The Bronze?" Said Giles sharply. "That would be the other name for the library?"  
  
"N-no, the club, downtown." Said Willow, confused.  
  
Spike groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Oh, just shoot me!" He begged.  
  
Giles glared at him. "I just might." He warned.  
  
"B-buffy was, um, well, she was hoping for a meeting. With you." Said Willow. Spike gave her an odd look.  
  
"You mean, like in a spy movie? Where we all creep around in black leather, sit around a table, and look like we're about to fight?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Without the black leather." She added.  
  
Spike smirked. "Speak for yourself, pet." He stepped to the coatrack, retrieving his duster. As he slid it on the smirk settled into his face, transforming into a grin.  
  
"Hold it." Said Giles, grabbing a tweed jacket. "You're not leaving this house without me."  
  
Spike sighed. "Fine. We're ready, Leaf."  
  
"That's Willow." Said Willow automatically.  
  
"I know. It's this thing I do, with cute or nasty nicknames." Said Spike, a bit sharply. "You prefer Red? I'll go with Red, so there's no confusion. Lead on, Red."  
  
**  
  
Buffy sat with Xander, waiting nervously. Actually, Xander was nervous. Buffy practiced whipping her nunchuks out of her waistband.  
  
"Why isn't Riley here?" Asked Xander. "I mean, he's all with the muscle, which is important."  
  
"I'm here." Said Buffy. "Riley thinks this is stupid."  
  
"What, meeting the bad boy after school, in the dark dark place?" Xander looked around. "Why is it so dark on the football field?"  
  
Buffy stood, coming up off the grass. "They have someone with them." She said.  
  
Xander focused on the three people coming through the darkness towards them. "Maybe he was intimidated by the thought of three of us, and wanted backup?"  
  
As they closed, Buffy realized that the third was the new librarian. She snapped her mouth closed, frowning. He must have caught them coming out. . . this was bad. The principal HATED her already. This could get her expelled.  
  
"All right." Said Giles. "Let's do this." He put his hands in his pockets, setting his feet about two feet apart. Standing there, he reminded her of a movie she'd seen. A very bad gangster movie. "And make it fast, it's a school night."  
  
Spike smirked, moving closer to Buffy. "Heard you missed me, love." He said.  
  
Giles coughed.  
  
"I heard that the Demons and Vampires both want to tear a piece of your face off." Said Buffy nonchalantly.  
  
"Let them try." Said Spike. Giles cleared his throat.  
  
"How would you like to really stick it to those guys?" Asked Buffy. Willow retreated behind her, so that she was flanked by her two friends.  
  
"Really stick it to them?" Asked Spike.  
  
"Take their gangs apart, get them expelled, get them in trouble with the law." Clarified Buffy. "Cut off the flow of drugs into this school." She added. She glanced at the librarian. "I know what you're going to say." She said.  
  
"You d-do?" He stuttered.  
  
"You're going to tell me that it's a matter for grownups, for the police. But that never, ever works out. They do nothing, and the drugs keep coming in."  
  
Giles nodded. "Nunchuks." He noted coolly. "Formally known as nunchaku. Do you know how to use them?"  
  
Buffy put her hand on the nunchuks. "Pretty well." She said nonchalantly.  
  
"Show me." Said Giles.  
  
The nunchuks came out and spun by his ear, coming to rest in a very professional grip in her hands. Spike chuckled.  
  
"May I?" Asked Giles. She handed him the nunchuks, and he spun them by his hears in a series of quick movements. They lacked the grace that Buffy had shown, but clearly this was not the first time he'd held the weapon. He handed it back. "I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty." He apologized.  
  
Buffy's eyes had narrowed. "You're not going to tell me to get the cops involved."  
  
He sighed. "Much as it pains me to encourage the further delinquentment of children, I've spoken to the police, and they've proved ineffective. I know that I'm hardly welcome here, no more than my nephew." He glanced to Spike. "But I want to be a part of this. I don't know that you can trust me enough -- but I would ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt."  
  
Buffy smiled. "Anyone who wants to kick butt, can."  
  
Spike stepped back, putting a hand on his chin. "I have a condition." He said.  
  
"Oh?" Said Buffy. Giles turned, joining the semi-circle behind her.  
  
"Yeah. We do this, we get this done, and I want a chance at you. A fight. You and me, clean." He grinned. "Cause every time we get in a fight, we get interrupted by some jerk. Demons, Vampires, whatever. I want a rematch with you. You give me that, and you can count on me."  
  
"Actually, you can't." Said Giles. "He's highly unreliable, but he's very, very good."  
  
"Not as good as me." Said Buffy confidently.  
  
Spike grinned. His mind was whirling with scenarios. Most of them involved him double-crossing Buffy and Giles, but, then, that was what he did. 


	7. Blood of innocents

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nobody, nada.  
  
Spike stalked down the hallway, watching students scatter in his wake. The proliferation of bruises on his face only served to accentuate the very scary look on his face. Those in his path suddenly decided to be out of his path.  
  
Buffy joined him, walking beside him. "Here it is." She said. "I think that Adam has a drug deal going down behind the Bronze, tonight."  
  
"Behind the Bronze, tonight." He repeated skeptically.  
  
"Meet me at my house after school, and I'll tell you the plan.  
  
And she moved off, leaving only the fragrance of flowers behind her.  
  
Wow, she turned him on.  
  
**  
  
As he approached her house, he wondered if the little sister would be there. The little sister and the mother. What had been their names?  
  
Well, okay, maybe he wasn't the best in the world at this whole thing  
  
He stopped at the tree in front, leaning against it. He glanced back the way he'd come, a smile playing around his face.  
  
Yeah, he was going to enjoy beating her face in. He was sure of it.  
  
She appeared behind him with no warning. "Hey." She said warily.  
  
He glanced at her, grinning. "Well, hey yourself." He said.  
  
"You're awfully cheerful." She observed.  
  
He took in her face, her hair, and then glanced down at her body, meeting her gaze again after a beat. "I'm always cheerful." He told her.  
  
"Inside." She said, turning and walking to the front door.  
  
He followed her, watching her butt. It was a nice butt. Very well toned. He barely managed to catch the tail end of whatever she was saying. "...Trick."  
  
"What was that?" He said. "Can't hear you so good when you're facing away." Although it wasn't actually the facing away that made the problem, per se, but let her think what she wanted.  
  
She gave him a funny look, as if she could read his mind. "I said, getting Adam tonight might be easy, but then we'll have to watch out for Trick."  
  
"Because he'll be on his guard?"  
  
"Yeah." She shivered. "And Warren--I'm sorry, the "Master," master of the geeks, he's cagy."  
  
"Cagy? What does that mean?" Asked Spike. She led him into the kitchen, pointing to a stool. He leaned against the counter, watching her.  
  
"What does cagy mean? It means he's smart. He's not violent like the others, just too smart for his own good. He gets me into all kinds of trouble at school."  
  
"Sounds like he needs a good beating." Offered Spike.  
  
"Yeah." Sighed Buffy. "That's why he keeps bodyguards."  
  
Spike thought about that. "This is one twisted school." He said it with a smile, relishing the fact.  
  
When she looked at him, her eyes for a second lost their pretense of sophisticated cynicism. For a second she looked utterly bone-weary, and a little lost. Her eyes seemed like pools of hurt.  
  
For a second he remembered the last time he'd seen that look, in the mirror. He remembered his old school.  
  
He looked at her and saw through her tough façade. He saw through to the girl who felt responsible for a whole school, the girl who refused to give up. For a second he felt his heart ache with sympathy.  
  
He carefully tamped the feeling down. 'Pain is my friend.' He reminded himself silently. "Just the way I love it." He added out loud. "Bit of violence, bit of drugs, great stuff."  
  
Her eyes changed, the mask slipping back up. "Right. Good. Because my plan involved you getting a whole bunch of Adam's gang in a fight, while I grab Adam, with the stuff on him, and deposit him with the Sunnydale police."  
  
"How many?" Asked Spike.  
  
"I don't know." She replied. "Then we wait for Trick's next shipment, and do the same to him."  
  
"That's your plan? I hit, you grab?" Spike's mouth curled into a grin. "I like it!" He observed.  
  
"I thought you might." She said. "It seemed about your level."  
  
His eyebrows went up. "Oh, snappish, are we?" His eyes wandered down to her lips, and seemed stuck. For some reason he couldn't look away.  
  
He double-blinked. She was saying something, but the way her lips were moving had caused him to entirely miss it. He didn't want to admit it, so he covered up by simply leaning back and plastering his all-knowing smirk on his face. She waited a beat.  
  
"Well?" She said.  
  
He shrugged. "Try again, with shorter words." He suggested.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry about the 'your level' crack." She apologized. He smirked. Well, that had worked out better than he thought. "But, seriously, what do you think?"  
  
He glowered at her. "I wasn't listening." He admitted.  
  
She sighed. "I asked if you thought you could take ten of them."  
  
He grinned. "For five minutes, maybe." He said. "Maybe more, maybe not We'll see, won't we?"  
  
"Does nothing scare you?" She asked, angry now.  
  
He thought back. Back to the humiliation of Cecily tearing his heart out. Yeah, he thought to himself. One things scares me. And that's getting too close. Opening up too far. Letting someone like you get to me.  
  
"Only cheese." He said with a grin. "Other than that, what's there to be afraid of?"  
  
"Get out." She said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Meet me in the Bronze at six. Now just get out of my house. I'm tired of dealing with you."  
  
"Problem is, you're doing it all wrong." Said Spike. "The hands-on approach takes a lot less energy."  
  
She glared at him. "How about nunchuks-on? That approach good for you?"  
  
He left, taking a little extra time to make sure he went extra slow. He didn't want her to think she'd won.  
  
He went straight from her house to the Bronze. The walk there gave him a little extra time to think, as well as time to warm up. He was still covered with bruises from his last fight, and this would be just the thing.  
  
Get the blood pumping and flowing, get himself going--  
  
Oh, wait, no. How about a chance to rethink the whole thing?  
  
As he entered the Bronze he spotted Adam, and walked straight to him. Adam seemed to hesitate, but Spike grinned at him.  
  
"Hear you've got some business tonight." Said Spike, sitting down beside Adam.  
  
"Where'd you hear that?" Asked Adam cautiously.  
  
"From my new best pal, Buffy." Said Spike. "Now, I don't like you a whole lot, but you have an opportunity, here. If you wanna play nice with me, I can give her right to you. Would you like that?"  
  
"You'd do that?" Asked Adam.  
  
"Hey." Spike got into Adam's face. "What do I look like, some do-gooder? Sure, I beat on you. But that's because I like to fight. I beat on Trick, because he's as ugly as you. I love to fight. Even if we do this, no guarantees I won't kick your scrawny butt again soon as I feel like it. You get me, pal?"  
  
Adam swallowed. "You're more nuts than anybody in this crazy town!" He said.  
  
"I told you guys when I showed up." Said Spike, sitting back. "You think you're Bad? I'm the Big Bad."  
  
**  
  
Trick glared at Spike. "I'll have to ask the Master."  
  
Spike fought down a laugh. "The Master? You do that, buddy, you just do that."  
  
Trick glared at him. "This had better not be a trick!"  
  
"Or what, you'll bruise my defenseless fists with your bloody hard face?" Mocked Spike. "Get over yourself already, mate."  
  
**  
  
Giles heard the knocking at his door, and sighed. "You better not have forgotten your key again." He muttered.  
  
He opened it up to reveal Buffy Summers, wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. She smiled. "Hi." She said.  
  
"Oh, hello. Here to pick up my nephew for some covert operations?" Giles asked, recovering quickly.  
  
"Um, no, to talk to you." She said. "About him, that is. Where'd he learn to fight?"  
  
"In England." Said Giles. "As I said, I've never really been a part of his life, let alone his training." He hesitated. "Please, come in."  
  
Buffy entered, smiling. "Thank you. Your apartment is...uh, not spacious."  
  
"No." Said Giles, smiling. "I must admit, you are--well, a surprise." She frowned.  
  
"A surprise? How so?"  
  
"Well, especially after meeting my own nephew, I was beginning to despair of your generation."  
  
"Oh, really?" She asked.  
  
"Yes. He is, ah, quite a bad example of your generation, I hope."  
  
"So, yeah, you know karate, then?" She asked.  
  
He smiled. "I wondered if you'd come to the point. If I'm not mistaken, you don't currently have a trainer."  
  
"No, I don't. I looked around, but there's nobody in this town I can even spar with." She said.  
  
"Hm." He shook his head. "I do, ah, know quite a bit, but I'm afraid it's all street-level."  
  
"Perfect." She said. "That's exactly what I need."  
  
He smiled. "Your form, well, you seemed to be—I doubt I have anything to show you."  
  
"Let's test that, shall we?" She asked.  
  
He hesitated, then nodded. "Very well." She said.  
  
She whirled, sending a kick at him. His arms moved in a familiar pattern, blocking her blows and swinging at her.  
  
She ducked back, easily blocking each blow, then threw another kick at him. He blocked it too, nodding approvingly.  
  
"You're concentrating on your kicks, that's good." He approved. "As you will--oomph!"  
  
She whirled faster and faster, her movements so fast he could barely register them. He used every move, every flowing pattern that he knew, but she was always there, always attacking.  
  
He lifted both hands in a signal to stop, gasping for breath.  
  
"Pretty good." She said approvingly.  
  
**  
  
Xander sat in the Bronze, shaking his head from side to side in time with the music. Or rather, in what he thought was time to the music.  
  
His dark hair shook from side to side, and he hummed under his breath.  
  
"If it isn't the sidekick." Said a low drawl. Xander turned, surprised to see Spike. Spike sat down beside him. "Isn't this place a bit dangerous for you?"  
  
"Not if I stick to the well-lit areas, and call for Buffy if I get in trouble." Said Xander.  
  
"Oh, good." Said Spike sarcastically. He grinned. "You ever get sick of being the dumb side-kick, give me a call. I know this great shop where you can buy a pair."  
  
Xander snorted. "At least I don't get regularly beaten up by a girl."  
  
Spike smirked. "No, no, you don't." Spike reached over and grabbed Xander by the collar. "Because you're too busy hiding behind her skirts." He looked both ways slowly, drawing the moment out. "It's funny, but I don't see any skirts right now, do you?"  
  
Xander shook his head slowly. "N-now, don't be--"  
  
Spike slammed a fist into Xander's face, knocking him back. "Oh, shut up." He said. 


	8. Spike, you bonehead

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Xander gave a strangled yell as Spike began beating him, and he tried to fight back. But against the strong arms that pounded his body he had no defense.  
  
Spike kicked him in the leg and he feel down, clutching his leg. He thought for a second that the beating was over, but then Spike's boot hit him in the back, and he didn't even have the strength to scream any more. He just lay there, curling up into a ball.  
  
Another impact, and he whimpered.  
  
His entire world was reduced to that one impact that he knew was coming. The one impact that would break his bones.  
  
It never came, leaving him there, blood dribbling from his nose, his entire body on fire with pain.  
  
**  
  
Buffy whirled, spinning off a kick. The bo staff blocked the kick. "Very good." Said Giles approvingly. "But you might want to tighten up your swings. A bit loose."  
  
She spun, punching straight at his chest. The point of impact was the pit of his stomach, just below the rib cage, driving him back and knocking the air out of his lungs. He coughed, spinning the bo staff quickly.  
  
"How's that?" She asked innocently.  
  
He actually laughed. "Much better."  
  
There was a knock at the door and they both turned together. The door opened without an invitation, and Xander staggered in, supported on one side by Willow and on the other side by Oz.  
  
"Buffy." Moaned Xander.  
  
There was blood all over his face, and dark bruises were forming.  
  
"Who did this?" Asked Buffy, grabbing one of the nunchuks lying on the side table. "Trick? Adam?"  
  
"It was Spike." Muttered Xander. "In the Bronze."  
  
Buffy froze, turning to look at Giles. His face was hard, and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at Buffy.  
  
"I'm sorry to say this, but I told you so." He said, removing his glasses and taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, juggling the bo stick for a moment before setting it down against the wall. "He's not, he's not a good boy."  
  
The bo stick slid down the wall to land with a crash on the floor.  
  
Buffy headed out the door.  
  
**  
  
He was waiting outside the Bronze when she arrived. He took a long drag on the cigarette dangling from his mouth and threw it down, smiling widely at her. "Seen Xander lately?" He asked.  
  
"No." She said, stalking closer. Maybe if he thought she didn't know...  
  
"Ah, your mouth says no, your nunchuks say yes." He said, glancing to her belt. "So, come to punish me for being such a bad boy?"  
  
"Nobody touches my friends." Said Buffy. "That's a rule I've set down for even Warren, and you're certainly not going to get out of it."  
  
"Oo." He said playfully. "Gonna whomp my butt now, Buffy?"  
  
She pulled the nunchuks out, swing straight at him. He dodged the blow, spinning with speed she hadn't realized he had, whirling around and charging at her. Before she could get a defensive grip on him he had grabbed her by the head and pushed her back, sending her to one knee on the pavement.  
  
She jumped back, ready. He just stood there, smirking. "What'sa matter, luv? Don't like these rules?"  
  
"Love them!" She growled, charging forward. She spun another kick at him, hitting him in the face. He rocked back with the blow, then punched her in the face.  
  
She fell back, pain exploding in her face. She was shocked, for just a second, but then he picked her up.  
  
"You know that bit about guys not hurting girls?" He asked her calmly, holding the back of her skull.  
  
Then he pushed, slamming the front of her face into the side of the Bronze, and she felt her nose break from the impact. She let out a scream.  
  
He dropped her, sparing a single kick for her stomach. "And don't you go forgetting this valuable lesson." He told her, his voice cold.  
  
He walked away, leaving her lying on the ground moaning.  
  
**  
  
A/N: Well, Spike won. You happy now, guys? I'm gonna cry, myself. 


	9. Evil

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Spike was aware that his conscience was gnawing at him. He tried to squelch it down, but it kept coming back to that sickening, stomach-turned *crack* when Buffy's face hit the brick wall.  
  
There'd been a lot of blood when he left.  
  
A lot. Probably she would have to get stitches.  
  
He grimaced and kept walking. He hated second-guessing. She'd beat him before, and he'd taken back him manliness. That was important. She thought her rule about her friends was important? His rule about his face was more important.  
  
**  
  
Xander helped Buffy into her room, depositing her on the bed. Giles and Willow came in behind him.  
  
"Here, lie down." Said Giles. "I'll, just, um." He stared at the bottle in his hands. "This is a local anesthesia. I'll apply it, and it'll numb your face." His hands were shaking. Her nose was broken, her forehead was bruised, and long gashes across her cheeks were still dribbling blood.  
  
He was going to kill Spike.  
  
Willow moved closer. There were tracks running down her face, and fresh tears in her eyes. "Are you okay, Buffy?" She asked.  
  
Buffy nodded. "`M fine." She muttered.  
  
Xander's hands were shaking too as he tried to clean some of the blood off her face with a wet towel. "I don't...I don't get it." He said. "Why'd he do this?"  
  
Giles sighed. "He was expelled from a school in Britain for fighting, and his mother sent him to me, hoping I could straighten him out. And he's been...I haven't been able to get through to him, not even slightly."  
  
Xander frowned. "I'm going to...I'm going to kill him."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "You can't." She said. "I can't." She tried to sit and fell back, holding her stomach.  
  
"You need a hospital." Said Giles.  
  
"No hospital!" Said Buffy. "Besides, Will knows what to do."  
  
**  
  
"I hear you've been busy." Said Trick, falling into step with Spike.  
  
Spike sighed. "I'm just a little tired right now. Bugger off." He said.  
  
"Yeah." Said Adam. "Heard you took Buffy Summers' face off."  
  
Spike growled under his breath. "Oh, yeah, thanks for that." He said. "I live for your approval. What do you gits want?"  
  
"Well, to thank you." Said Trick. "See, we've been wondering for a while what to do about her, but I think you've given us an opportunity. To get rid of her for good."  
  
Spike laughed. "You and what army?" He asked. "She'll decimate you."  
  
"Hm, not in the condition you left her in." Said Adam. "I mean, really, that was brilliant. I'm going to rate it a ten. Still got your knife, Trick?"  
  
"Yeah, gonna carve the girl up." Grinned Trick.  
  
"Not before I have a little, um, shall we say, fun with her." Said Adam, grinning even wider.  
  
Spike shook his head. "You ponce's."  
  
They both looked at him, surprised. "Excuse me?" Said Trick.  
  
Spike turned on them. "Who calls the shots here? Me. Not you, me. You think you're something? I took her, I can take you. There will be no fun, and no carving." He stalked closer.  
  
"What, smashing a girl's face turns you on?" Said Trick. "Dude, we are going to finish her."  
  
"No." Said Spike.  
  
Trick punched him in the face. As Spike fell he took his knife out. "Actually, um, we call the shots here." He said, glancing at Adam. "Right, Demon?"  
  
"Right, Vampire." Said Adam, kicking Spike.  
  
As Spike rolled to his feet Trick slashed him with the knife. Spike yelped, jumping back, grabbing the wound.  
  
"Remember," said Trick. "We call the shots. We are in charge. Not you."  
  
Then he was surrounded again.  
  
**  
  
Giles heard the knock at the door and stopped, looking up from Buffy. "Would you get that, Willow?" He asked.  
  
Xander groaned, shifting his ice pack from his head to his ribs. "That Spike." He muttered darkly. "He's such a bastard."  
  
Willow went down the stairs.  
  
Giles sighed, going back to her face. "Your nose should heal straight." He said. "Just, uh, try not let anything hit it. Um, there's some cuts that might scar a little, but I think for the most part in a week or two most of the damage will clear up."  
  
There were the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, many footsteps, and then a scream. Giles' head jerked up, and then the room was filled with students, most of them armed with baseball bats.  
  
Giles whirled, punching one, and was knocked down by one, a bat hitting him in the chest. He grunted and fell.  
  
"So this is how it is." Said Trick happily, kicking Xander to the floor. Buffy tried to resist, but they all grabbed her.  
  
Adam moved closer, putting his hands on the waistband of Buffy's jeans. "Revenge on you is gonna be oh so sweet." He leered at her as strong hands grabbed her from behind, holding her. "Yeah."  
  
Adam fumbled the button on her jeans undone, and she tried to kick him, only to find hands holding her legs still, moving all over her.  
  
She screamed then, a hoarse scream. 


	10. White Knight

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
  
Buffy was being held down on her bed, held by hands all over her bed, and Adam's hands were try to pull her jeans off. On the floor she knew her friends were lying there, probably unconscious but maybe dead, and the gang members crowding her room all held baseball bats.  
  
Her window exploded, a loud explosion, and she felt a piece of glass hit her cheek, cutting her. A few more smashes cleared the glass out of her window, and she felt some of the people holding her let go in shock.  
  
Her right hand was free, and she smashed Adam in the face, driving him back.  
  
A dark figure dropped in her window, holding a baseball bat in each hand. She glanced at him, shocked to see the platinum shock of hair above the leather jacket.  
  
"Now." Said Spike. "Try that again." His voice was cold.  
  
Trick started for him, but Spike was ready, his bats whirling in his hands. Trick went down screaming desperately, and Buffy knew from the sounds of the impacts that bones were breaking.  
  
Several other gang members were backing away nervously.  
  
Spike kicked Trick, smashing one baseball bat down on him, smashing his face. Trick's scream died out.  
  
Another gang member charged, swinging his baseball bat at Spike's head. Spike blocked with one bat, using the other to smash the gang member out the window, sending him falling down to the ground two stories away.  
  
Two attacked him at once, and he blocked and swung faster than they could even begin to swing with their bats, and he forced them back, hitting them again and again until they fell.  
  
The rest of the gang broke and run, freeing Buffy, who managed to kick Adam between the legs before he got out.  
  
She lay there on the bed breathing heavily, aware that her jeans were undone and pulled down to her hips and that Spike was leaning against the window frame. She glanced at him, trying to pull her pants up.  
  
His eyes were closed and he was breathing in long, hard pants. His face was covered in blood, and she wondered for the briefest of seconds what he was doing there.  
  
Then she rolled to the edge of the bed, ignoring the sharp pains from her broken rib. She reached under, pulling out a nightstick.  
  
Spike watched her. "Planning on throwing me out the window?" He asked her, and his voice sounded like she felt.  
  
"It was one plan." She said.  
  
He shook his head, sinking to the floor. "How's your face?" He asked.  
  
"Smashing." She replied in a dry tone. She twirled the nightstick in her hand. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Trick and Adam." He replied. "Lucky you had that tree by the window, because I don't think I coulda beat the guys at the door." He let out a wheezing cough.  
  
"And what did you just do, anyway?" Asked Buffy. "Last I checked, rescuing damsel's in distress wasn't your thing."  
  
That's right, she thought to herself. Just laugh about it. Be light about it. Let your heart slow down, let the fear go away.  
  
She hadn't gone for the nightstick to fight Spike. She knew what kind of enemy he was. He was a good fighter, and he was probably the worst threat she'd ever met.  
  
But right now, here, she wasn't afraid of him. Because she knew that he might break her nose, maybe even kill her. But he wasn't like the others. Wasn't an animal.  
  
And she'd needed the weight of the nightstick in her hand. Needed the reassurance of the weapon. Needed something to tell her if they came back in now, it would different.  
  
Spike groaned. "You tell anyone this happened, I'll deny it." He said. "I'm not that sort."  
  
She glanced at him. "You okay?" She asked.  
  
"They tried to kill me." He said. "And they were gonna kill you."  
  
"And that turned you into a knight on a white horse?"  
  
He glanced at her, and she saw hatred in his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He said.  
  
"Why did you come here?" She pressed. He just glared at her.  
  
And for a split second, she could have sworn that he looked embarrassed. But then his face was a mask again, holding the world out by sheer force of sarcasm. "Well, I thought to myself, Adam. Adam? There's a fate worse than death, that is. And while I'm all for killing you, that seemed just a bit much. I mean, Trick, maybe. Sure, why not. I'd do him. Or even Warren. But Adam? No, that was just too much."  
  
Buffy giggled, then winced and grabbed her ribs. "Are you always like this?" She asked. "Can't you just answer a question? Is this all a big joke to you? You nearly got me killed, and you're just laughing about it."  
  
"What d'you have in mind, luv? A nice heart to heart with the guy who broke your nose?" He chuckled. "Oh, Jerry Springer would love that, he would."  
  
Buffy sighed. "No, not a heart to heart. But you just...thank you." The words felt like poison on her tongue. But she had to say them.  
  
He laughed, of course. He always laughed. She looked at his hands, and the cracked and bloody knuckles, at the streaks of blood on his exposed wrists.  
  
"They beat you up pretty bad, didn't they?"  
  
He shrugged. "Whatever." He rose to his feet, his hands empty, and she tightened her grip on the nightstick, aware her pants weren't even fastened. He sat down on the bed beside her, groaning. Then he picked up the first aid kit, taking out a box of band-aids.  
  
His hand froze halfway to his face.  
  
She turned, glancing at his face. He was staring at the floor. At Giles, lying there unconscious. She glanced to Xander, who was also unconscious. "Willow's downstairs." She said, a sudden panic rising in her.  
  
"They hit Rupes." Said Spike coldly.  
  
"What?" She said.  
  
"Messing with me was bad enough. Messing with my family--they do not get to do that!" He snarled.  
  
She put down the nightstick and fastened her pants. He didn't even look at her. She sighed. "Spike, calm down. You're in no shape to start anything."  
  
He picked up her nightstick, examining it. He handed it back to her. "Yes I am." He replied. He took a deep, long breath. "It's just pain."  
  
"And pain is your friend." Said Buffy sarcastically.  
  
Spike just grinned. "Help them out." He said.  
  
She grabbed his arm. "Don't do this. I need your help."  
  
"I don't give a rat's arse what you need." He said, shaking off her arm.  
  
"Don't you dare!" She said. "Look at your uncle! What if they come back?" She was shaking slightly.  
  
"I find them, they won't be coming back." He replied, but he didn't move. Finally he sighed. "All right, I'll stay."  
  
She gave a little sigh. "Thank you." She said.  
  
"Don't thank me." He muttered. "I feel such a git when you do that."  
  
He got off the bed, limping to where Giles lay on the floor. He crouched over the other man, checking his pulse.  
  
"I'm beginning to hate it here." He said, his voice angry. Buffy nodded. "It's not just the violence. I like violence. It's not that it's mindless violence. I like that too. It's not that they don't recognize rules. I like that too. It's that they're so bloody stupid!" He kicked Trick where the gang leader was lying on the floor. "You should have known I'd do this, eh, Trick? Should have known! Bloody stupid!"  
  
Buffy blinked, her frazzled nerves finally calming down enough to put two and two together. "Adam and Trick were here together." She said.  
  
Spike blinked. "Oh, yeah. That's right." He said. "They called some kind of truce to try and kill me."  
  
Buffy blinked. "You managed to singlehandedly unite the two biggest threats into town, making them even bigger."  
  
Spike shrugged. "What's life without a little challenge?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I ought to kill you for what you did to my face." She said, touching the bandages on her nose."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, somebody handled that one for you." He stretched, and there was a popping noise from his shoulder."  
  
"What happened?" She asked.  
  
"Both gangs jumped me at the same time." He said with a shrug. "Nearly got me."  
  
"How did you escape?" Asked Buffy. He shrugged.  
  
"Rather not say." He said coldly.  
  
"Let's go downstairs." Said Buffy. "Check on Wills."  
  
Spike rose from the crouch over Giles, and glanced at Xander. He grinned, seeing the bruises on him. "That'll teach him." He muttered. Buffy gave him a hard look. "Oh, come on!" He said, irritated.  
  
He limped towards the door. Buffy followed, wincing at the pain from her broken rib. The one Spike had broken kicking her. She glared at him.  
  
He moved through the door and towards the stairs, still limping heavily. She frowned, watching him. "Serves you right." She said.  
  
He glanced at her face. "Yeah, well, you're still pretty enough." He grumbled. "I may never have children now, eh?"  
  
She tried to hold back her reaction, but she still blushed. He glanced at her, catching her reaction, and grinned. He winced from the grin, brushing a hand across his bruised jaw, and stumbled, almost falling. He steadied himself with a bloody hand against the wall.  
  
"Don't get blood on the walls." Said Buffy.  
  
"Where's your mother and little sis?" Asked Spike.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "They're not home." She said sharply.  
  
"I know that, Buffy. So where are they?" He asked, his voice strained. He went down the stairs slowly, pain obvious in his eyes.  
  
"There's a PTA meeting tonight." She replied. "Mom took Dawn there."  
  
Spike let out a long breath. "That's what I thought." He said.  
  
"What's wrong?" Asked Buffy sharply.  
  
"That's where they're going next." He said flatly.  
  
**  
  
A/N: Hm...why did he go all white knight, do you think? Well, I know.  
It was because he already felt guilty about hurting her, and he  
didn't want to KILL anybody. 


	11. Dark Knight

Disclaimer: Even thought I actually own them all, I let Joss Whedon borrow them one day, and he never gave them back...  
  
Spike gripped the baseball bat in his right hand, leaning on it against the couch. "Found your friend yet?" He asked.  
  
"She's on the couch." Said Buffy, rejoining him. He lifted a hand towards her face, and she flinched back. He moved forward, calmly grabbing her cheek to get a good look at her face.  
  
"Rupes set your nose good." He noted. "It could heal straight."  
  
"Jerk!" She spat, pushing him back. He stumbled and fell to the floor. She looked around. "So they're heading to the PTA."  
  
"Plan to trash the place. Burn it up." Said Spike from his seat on the floor. He rubbed his face. "Fat lot we can do to stop them, shape we're in."  
  
She kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down to a prone position. "You pig!" She snarled, stepping closer to him. "This is your fault!"  
  
"Is not." He replied weakly. "What're you going to do? Call the cops?"  
  
"The worthless, useless cops?" She asked him, her brow drawing forward in a scowl. "No."  
  
He considered this for a second. "You're going after them yourself." He sat up abruptly. "You crazy bird!"  
  
She put a foot on his chest, pushing him back to the ground. "With Trick out of commission, that'll only leave—"  
  
"Every sodding Vampire and Demon you've ever met, and then a few new ones they picked up this week!" Snarled Spike. "It's insane!" His eyes glittered. "Impossible odds. A dangerous mission. Can I come?"  
  
She sighed. "Can you come? What happened to impossible odds?"  
  
"I like those kinds of odds." He replied. He tried to sit up, but she kept her foot on his chest, holding him done. Quickly, before she could move, he grabbed her ankle, holding in a manner that was a threat to twist, to throw her to the ground. "They're my favorite. Outnumbered, outgunned, death only inches away."  
  
"Inches, huh?" She asked, jerking her leg out of his hand. "Okay, you can come. You try to double cross me and get my family hurt again, and I'll tear your lungs out."  
  
He chuckled. "Trust me when I say I've learned at least some lesson here."  
  
"Like what?" She asked, tucking the nightstick into her belt.  
  
"Like, don't get caught." He replied, standing up. "Let's just make a quick stop in your mom's medicine cabinet, and then we'll get moving."  
  
Buffy touched her aching cheek, which was burning. "Medicine cabinet." She agreed brusquely.  
  
He turned, considering her. "Don't get too mad I beat your face in." He said. She flushed. "I mean, your real beauty isn't your face anyway."  
  
"You make one comment about my body, I'll kill you right now." She said coldly.  
  
He gave her an odd look. "I meant your spirit, ducks."  
  
She decided to ignore him. It was easier on her blood pressure. She led the way to the medicine cabinet, where he began taking his shirt off.  
  
"What are you doing?" She asked.  
  
"Does it have a bandage? I need to bandage up my chest, get the broken ribs steady." He said. She glowered at him, producing a length of bandages. "Perfect." He said.  
  
He began winding the bandage around his bare chest, and she tried to ignore him. Tried awfully hard. After all, the sculpted body, those hard abs, that taut skin over flowing muscles, the milky pale skin...  
  
Yes, she was ignoring him as she found the painkillers and dry-swallowed two, nearly gagging at the taste.  
  
Spike grabbed three, swallowing them. "How're your ribs?" He asked, tying off the bandage and putting his shirt back on.  
  
"Terrific." She muttered.  
  
"No, seriously." He said. "You go into a fight with broken ribs, they'll only get worse."  
  
She winced. "Yeah, I'll bandage myself up."  
  
"You know how?" He asked. Her eyes flashed.  
  
"Oh, and you're the medical guru? Sorry, no thanks. No shirtless-Buffy for you."  
  
He chuckled. "Oh, be that way." He said, amused. "It was a serious question. Mostly." He added off her look.  
  
"Yes, I've bandaged ribs up before." She snapped at him.  
  
"I guess I should have asked you to do mine, then." He said regretfully. She put her hand on the nightstick threateningly, and he threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Don't be so touchy." He said, mock-offended.  
  
"I'm not touchy." She muttered, walking into the bathroom.  
  
Spike sat down, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain his strength. "This is not gonna be pretty." He said loudly. "Gonna be down- right ugly. Neither of us is one hundred percent."  
  
Buffy returned, adjusting her shirt over her now-bandaged ribs. "What are you babbling on about?" She asked, annoyed.  
  
He grinned. "We're gonna need each other. You reckon you handle it? Teaming up with me?"  
  
She scowled. "Well, we'll see." She said darkly, retrieving the nightstick. Spike picked up his baseball bat.  
  
"Don't worry, I've got your back." He said, falling into step behind her.  
  
"God, you better not be staring at my butt!" She said.  
  
"Don't worry." He said, falling into step beside her. "Your lovely hiney is safe enough from my prying, lecherous eyes for now."  
  
"And why is that?" She asked sarcastically.  
  
"Your shirt tails are coverin` up the goods." He replied seriously. "You might want to consider tuckin`."  
  
"Or not." She said resolutely, exiting the house.  
  
He smirked. "Oh, your buttons are easy to press." He said. "They just light right up. Practically screaming 'press me!' And fun, too. You're cute when you get mad."  
  
"You're not so cute when I'm mad." She muttered.  
  
There was a single motorcycle out front, leaning against the tree Spike had leaned against, waiting for the Slayer. Spike glanced to it. "Fancy riding in style?" He asked her.  
  
"Why are you helping me?" She asked.  
  
"Thought we went over this." He said, gritting his teeth.  
  
"No, you said you liked impossible odds. That's all. Earlier today you smashed my face into a wall and tried to kill me!"  
  
He leaned forward. "I beg to differ. If I'd tried to kill you, you'd be dead."  
  
"And you double-crossed me!" She said. "We were supposed to be on the same side then, and you double-crossed me!"  
  
He shrugged. "You're cuter than the other team." He pointed out. She shook her head.  
  
"That's not a reason." She said coldly.  
  
"I don't need reasons." He said. "Those are for tidy, nice boys who you can explain."  
  
She shook her head. "What drives you?" She asked him.  
  
"I drive bikes." He said, purposefully mishearing her. "Come on, let's go." He pushed her towards the bike, and she went with it, watching him as he straddled the bike, hotwiring it quickly.  
  
"What made you the thing you are now?" She asked him.  
  
"Man named Angel." He said coolly.  
  
"Someday I want to meet this Angel." She said, getting on the bike behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. He gave a grunt at the pressure on his ribs.  
  
"He was a bloody poser." Said Spike. "You break a few kids' teeth, and he's all boo-hoo, stop it now! Pretty please!" Spike mocked Angel easily. "Played all big and bad when really he just liked the rep."  
  
"And you aren't playing?" Asked Buffy.  
  
"What?" They shot forward, the bike propelling them through the street.  
  
"You say you're bad, but you played the white knight back there!" Screamed Buffy. "And now for no discernible reason, you're on my side!"  
  
"Ask me later." He said resolutely. 


	12. PTA

Disclaimer: I own ... zip. Nada.  
  
Riley glanced at Joyce, who was frowning at him. Not a disapproving frown—though he'd seen those. Just a puzzled frown.  
  
Riley concentrated on Dawn. "Now you loop it through like this—and over—and under—and there you go." He smiled. "That's called a triple- throwback knot. One of my personal specials."  
  
"I bet not even Buffy could get out of this." Said Dawn admiringly. "It's a great knot. Are you going to untie me now?"  
  
Riley thought about it for a second. "Um, maybe. That depends. Why don't you tell me about the fight the other day, when Spike was in your house?"  
  
"Riley Finn!" Said Joyce, shocked.  
  
"He had his shirt off, and he's gorgeous." Said Dawn frankly.  
  
Riley sighed, untying Dawn. "Just kidding, Mrs. Summers, just kidding." He said with a grin. "Buffy already told me about the fight."  
  
Joyce sighed. He was a nice enough boy, but sometimes he just seemed a little detached from reality. Or maybe it was just the way he was always obeying—never taking the initiative, always obeying.  
  
She looked around at the parents and teachers milling quietly, trying to mingle. "I wish the meeting would start already." She grumbled.  
  
Dawn shrugged. "Look, there's Miss Calendar. Ooh, and she looks mad, too!"  
  
Joyce sighed as the teacher approached them. "Mrs. Summers." Said Jenny coldly. "So nice to see you." She glared at Dawn. "And you only brought one of the –"  
  
"Miss Calendar!" Riley moved in quickly, fully into 'evade' mode. Ever since he'd become Buffy's boyfriend he'd learned all kinds of ways to avoid confrontation. "Is that a new haircut?"  
  
She stared at him, surprised.  
  
That was when the doors were pounded down, and yelling gang members converged on the area.  
  
**  
  
Spike loved the way Buffy's hand wound into fists, tightly gripping his T- shirt. He didn't so much love the way her arms were constricting his already broken ribs.  
  
"Luv, I sorta need to breathe." He said reasonably.  
  
"Then why drive like this?" She asked breathlessly, her voice full of the horror he could feel in the strong arms racheting tighter around his chest.  
  
He took another curve at ninety. "Taste death and live, Summers!" He yelled over the whipping wind.  
  
As they approached the school he didn't slow down. Instead he aimed right for the glass front doors.  
  
Buffy realized his intentions and squeezed her eyes shut, holding her head against his back and screaming.  
  
**  
  
Joyce stared at the short man in the leather duster. "All right!" Bellowed Warren. "Shake them down for money, and terrorize them a little. Let them know who's in charge!"  
  
Riley moved Dawn behind him slowly. "Mrs. Summers, stay behind me." He instructed her cautiously.  
  
A dull roaring at the back of his skull caused him to shut his eyes. "Buffy was right." He whispered.  
  
The dull roaring grew louder, and then the doors of the school exploded inward, a motorcycle roaring into the middle of the room.  
  
Buffy climbed off the back, whipping nunchuks around in each hand. Spike picked up the baseball stuck under the handlebars, dismounting the bike, the leather duster settling around him like a cloak.  
  
"All right, freaks, monsters, teachers, and you too Dawn." Said Spike in a half-shout, half leer. "You can just surrender outright, or you can get your butts kicked. Your choice." His face was at least eight different shades of purple, and it was obvious he'd taken a pretty ferocious beating. Dried blood caked the edges of his face.  
  
He swung the baseball bat in a few tight, controlled swing.  
  
"What he said, with more threats." Said Buffy, the nunchuks whirling into motion. "And maybe a joke or two."  
  
"Get them!" Screamed Warren, the self-appointed Master, throwing his hands up and ducking backwards.  
  
Spike stepped back, so that his back was touching Buffy's back, and began swing the bat. She moved forward, Spike moving with her, covering her.  
  
The gang members who charged quickly learned the error of their ways as metal coated with wood slammed into them. Those who thought getting behind Buffy would help quickly learned that it was even worse behind her.  
  
One gang member moved toward Riley and Dawn to escape. Riley grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, lifting him into the air, and threw him away. The other gang members headed their way changed course, choosing a different route.  
  
Spike detached from Buffy, charging forward, grabbing Warren, who stared at the bleached blonde, who sneered down at him.  
  
"Remember when your gang offered me a job?" He asked.  
  
"Um, yeah." Said Warren.  
  
"I quit!" Roared Spike, slamming the baseball bat into Warren's chest with a sickening crack. Warren fell to the ground and Spike turned, facing the rest of the room. "Come on, you half-witted monkeys!"  
  
Two more charged him at once. He spun around, kicking one while hitting the other with the bat. Near him Buffy was once again a blur of action, spinning, kicking, punching, nunchuks finding flesh like a magnet.  
  
The gang members scattered.  
  
The principal was lying on the ground, but now that the noise of the fight had faded he began to stir. Buffy grabbed Spike, pulling him down a hall.  
  
"Come on, Spike." She said.  
  
"What's the hurry?" He asked.  
  
"I don't know about you, but expelled? So not good for my grades." She replied.  
  
He chuckled, following her. "That was great, wasn't it?" He asked.  
  
"You're such a pig!" She said.  
  
He grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around, and caught the nunchuk she swung at his head. "Hey, pig I may be, but you enjoyed that, admit it!"  
  
"Why'd you help?" She asked.  
  
He shrugged. "I enjoyed it." He said.  
  
"And that's all that matters to you?" She asked.  
  
He leaned forward and kissed her. "Yep. He murmured.  
  
She grabbed his head, pulling him closer, and kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around her gently, moving closer, and the two of them stayed like that for a moment.  
  
Then she pushed him away suddenly, violently. "Oh my god!" She said, upset.  
  
"What?" He asked.  
  
"I have a boyfriend!" She said, turning and walking away. "I mean, and you, you're the bad guy! You broke my nose!" She pointed to her still very sore nose. "You—you're a jerk!"  
  
He grinned. "Oh, sure, and you didn't kiss me back at all." He said happily.  
  
"You're a pig!"  
  
**  
  
Riley checked Warren for a pulse. "He's alive." He told Snyder. "But barely."  
  
Snyder tapped his foot on the ground. "Did anybody see who did this?" He asked.  
  
Riley shook his head, the lie coming easily. "We were too busy trying to escape, sir." He said softly.  
  
"I'm sure I heard Buffy Summers yell." Said Synder.  
  
Behind him Dawn stuck her tongue out at him. Riley kept a straight face. "It might have been, but I've asked, and nobody could say for sure." And that might have been because of the tone in his voice when he asked. You never know.  
  
**  
  
Xander closed the door. "Well, he's sleeping." He told Buffy and Spike. "The doctor said it would be good if someone, um, watched him."  
  
"How's Willow?" Asked Buffy.  
  
"She's fine." Said Xander. "Oz is sitting with her."  
  
"How are you?" Asked Buffy.  
  
"Fine." Said Xander, glaring at Spike, who stood facing away from them, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.  
  
"Shoulda busted you a couple more." Muttered Spike. He turned, flipping the cigarette away, and brushed by Xander, going to sit by Giles' bed.  
  
Buffy followed him, sitting opposite him, staring at Giles. "He's a good guy." She said finally.  
  
"He's okay." Allowed Spike. "Bit of a ponce, but he's taken my side a couple of times."  
  
"And that's what matters, taking your side?" Asked Buffy, glaring at Spike. He met her gaze levelly.  
  
"Hm, yeah." Said Spike, grinning.  
  
She shook her head. "You're nothing but an animal, Spike." She told him gruffly.  
  
"An animal? Like a tiger. A ferocious tiger." Said Spike, still amused.  
  
"A rat." Said Buffy loudly.  
  
Spike leaned forward. "Now, if you were an animal you'd be a fluffy teddy- bear. With little stick things, of course."  
  
"They're called nunchuks." Said Buffy through gritted teeth.  
  
"Nunchuks, right." Said Spike. "Gotta say, I love seeing you...twirling...big sticks..." He couldn't keep from laughing, and began chuckling. Buffy turned red.  
  
"You're a pig, Spike!" She said, leaning across the bed. Spike leaned forward, so that they were barely six inches apart.  
  
"Yeah, I am." He acknowledged.  
  
"Oh, dear lord..." Murmured Giles, stirring. He blinked his eyes open, staring. "Could you fight... a little quieter? Please?"  
  
Spike grinned. "Sure, gramps, sure." He said, sitting down.  
  
**  
  
End Part One  
  
A/N: Positively the longest build-up I've ever written. Now we can finally get down to business. Buffy's boyfriend—agrees with her! An uneasy truce with Spike, who wants her bad! A triangle! A little sister! And—well, the return of Angel, coming soon. (what, you thought I could just throw him away? So sorry.) Plus, Faith (another throw-away plot line come back!). And just who was supplying drugs to the kids of Sunnydale? Could it be that the mayor...? No, that would be too wacky! Tune in soon! 


End file.
